Climbing (Pin, NC-17) [1/3]

[maayacolabackup]

Title: Climbing
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Pin
Summary: Jin doesn't want to think he's had a mental breakdown, because then he'll have to think about all the reasons that might be the cause of it.
Notes: Deviates from canon at about March 2010, because I didn't want to rewrite my entire timeline! Sorry, please forgive me.
This fic was a joy to write. I haven't had so much FUN writing in a long time. I started this fic in April, and I gave up on it for a while. It started as a gen fic, but as usual, Pin found it's way in and wrested the story from my clutches. I've tried to be as factually accurate as possible, from my own experiences and from what I know, and from quite a bit of research, too, so I hope you like this. This will be the last thing I write for awhile, as I'm going away on a volunteer trip for a bit to a place with no internet, and I've only got one finished thing in my folders for elanielyn that I'll post for her when she's done being a globetrotter and whatnot. My vacation is over. I shall be less prolific. The world rejoices. If you have any questions, or you'd like to see my notes and my map, let me know.

 

TOKYO

 

Jin doesn't want to think he's had a mental breakdown, because then he'll have to think about all the reasons that might be the cause of it.

 

What he'd like to think, instead, is that he's growing up, or that he needs to figure out his priorities, or that he's finding himself, or whatever other excuse he can think of that isn't 'I think I'm going fucking insane, and if I don't leave now I don't know what I'll do.'

 

'Finding himself,' ends up being what he tells his mother from Narita airport, with nothing but an empty expensive backpack on his left shoulder and his wallet in his back pocket. After he ends the call, he throws his cell phone in the trash. It clinks in the metal receptacle with an air of finality, rattling Jin's bones and the clink shuddering in the air like a decision.

 

Sitting on the plane, Jin wonders if he's really giving it all up, right now, on some whim. Only it's not really a whim at all, it's a driving force that consumes his every thought, churning in his gut like quicksand, dragging everything else deep into it.

 

Some days, it seems like Jin can't do anything right, and other days it seems like he doesn't care if he does anything right, either. Jin just doesn't care, not really. He hasn't cared about much in a long time.

 

His day started normally enough. Jin woke up and checked his email, and then wandered into the kitchen, where Yamapi was sitting on the kitchen counter, draining a cup of coffee bare-chested and examining the newspaper.

 

Yamapi complained to him about the door creaking, and about how they needed to call someone to look at it, before it "drove him nuts." While he talked, he poured Jin a half cup of coffee, and then filled the rest of the mug with hazelnut cream, stirring it quickly with a spoon, setting it in front of Jin like he does every morning, because Jin can't do much beyond blink for the first twenty minutes after he wakes up.

 

Then Jin had showered and gotten dressed, and Yamapi had run his fingers through Jin's hair, because Jin had forgotten to comb it again, and told Jin he would be late that night, because he had a date with some girl he had met last Thursday night, and it probably wouldn't be a sleepover.

 

Jin had nodded and grabbed his bag, this stylish leather backpack thing Kame and Ryo had picked out for him, that Jin liked even though it looked more expensive than anything he owned, or anything he was ever going to wear.

 

Jin had gone to the studio, and recorded a track. It had taken four takes before the producer was satisfied with Jin's delivery. This was no more or fewer than usual; it was a perfectly average number of times. Then Jin had gone to another boring meeting with his manager, where he was told he was in consideration for a new drama, and then people talked about him like he wasn't there while he sent Pi random text messages on his mobile and tweeted with Yuu, about some girl Yuu had met at a club, via direct message.

 

Jin thought to himself then that he'd rather just sit at home and write music. Then Jin thought that he 'd rather be anywhere than at Johnny's right that moment. That he'd like to take a break. That maybe he didn't even want to write music anymore either. And maybe he didn't even really want to go home.

 

The idea grabbed hold of him round the throat like a noose, slipping tighter and tighter around his neck until he felt like he was choking.

 

The next thing Jin knew, he was walking past his car, which he'd driven to work that morning, and climbing into a taxi, asking it to take him to Narita airport.

 

And then, well, now, Jin is sitting on a plane. He thinks this is the craziest thing he's ever done.

 

The seat is uncomfortable, and his seat-belt is digging into his hips, and his body is still sore from the gym yesterday, because Pi made him add more weight to his reps. Still, the rope around his neck is loosening.

 

His mouth is dry and no matter how much water he drinks it does nothing to quench his thirst.

 

When the plane lands in New Dehli, the first thing Jin does is buy a bottle of spring water. He can already feel the late July heat pulsing outside the airport.

 

A woman is selling little pots of lip balm outside of the door Jin exits, and he stops and buys one, in cherry. It's Yamapi's favorite flavor, and it's the only reminder Jin keeps of home.

 

***

DELHI

 

New Delhi, for the three days Jin spends there, feels a lot like Tokyo, in that it's modern and glamorous and expensive. Jin doesn't know what he was expecting, but thinks maybe he was at least going to get to see an elephant, or some dude dressed as Aladdin, or something awesome and Indian.

 

But all there is is an overpowering feeling of modernity and familiarity, which Jin escapes by visiting famous temples and immersing himself in Indian choral music.

 

Jin also buys three t-shirts and a pair of pants, because he’s come to India with nothing, really, and a more durable backpack, folding the leather one up and shoving it into the bottom of the new one, under the clothes, and a few other necessities he had picked up at the airport.

 

After three days, Jin escapes to the greater part of Delhi, trusting the well-recommended guidebook he bought at the airport and his own vague confidence that even if he gets lost, everything will be fine.

 

The air is pungent with too many smells. Jin had thought it would smell like curry and like incense, but it doesn't. There are far too many people and animals on the roads for that. It's dirty too, in a way that's the price of riding animals down the streets, the price of dirt roads alongside asphalt ones.

 

Delhi is modern too, but in a way that Jin can see the threads of a different way of life threading through the cars and buses.

 

Jin sees the first elephant he's ever seen in his life in Delhi, on the outskirts of the metropolis on one of his daytime city walks. It's huge, is the first thing Jin thinks. It's skin is leathery and cracked, and it's more brown than the gray Jin has always associated with elephants in his mind.

 

The skin is warm from the sun under his questing hands, and the wet trunk of the elephant explores Jin's neck as he runs his fingers through the grooves in the skin. "She likes you," says the man by the elephant's side, and Jin laughs.

 

Now it feels like India.

 

Jin finds a co-op full of disillusioned Americans to stay with in Delhi. He's responsible for cleaning three days a week, and feeding the numerous animals that live on the land, and as long as he does that, he can stay as long as he wants.

 

Lonnie, the de facto leader of the co-op, plays the guitar every night, and talks about finding nirvana a lot. Jin is pretty sure they do a lot of drugs, and while he has no interest, he also doesn't mind, as long as they aren't hurting anyone.

 

Lonnie takes a lot of interest in Jin, asking him all kinds of questions about things that seem really non-sequitur to Jin, about things like when was the first time Jin went to the beach, or when was Jin's brother born.

 

Before Jin knows it, he's somehow gotten a little used to life at the co-op. The morning wakeup calls sink into his tired arms and back, and make Jin feel a little less cast adrift. Like he'll make it, somehow. Lonnie presents him with a star chart based on all the questions he asked Jin.

 

"See this star?" Lonnie says, standing too close to Jin, dragging his blond dreadlocks across Jin's shoulder. "This star says it's time for you to keep going on your journey."

 

"How do the stars know, anyway?" Jin says, and then wraps his arms around himself.

 

"The stars know everything," Lonnie replies. "You've got to learn to put your faith in something. Buddhas, gods, the stars, fate, or even another person. Something. Otherwise you'll spend the rest of your life wondering what else there is, and you won't stop to appreciate what you have." Lonnie clears his throat. "And you should stop smoking if you're going to live as a backpacker."

 

"Do the stars say that too?" Jin asks sarcastically, and Lonnie grins.

 

"No, I say that, and I'm probably right, huh?"

 

Jin swallows.

 

The next morning, he leaves without a word. As he's leaving, he throws his last pack of cigarettes in the trash. There were only two left anyway, he rationalizes, so he can buy more later, when he goes to a train station.

 

He doesn't.

 

***

MUMBAI

 

Jin buys a ticket for the first train leaving New Delhi.

 

He doesn't know a lot about the different trains, but he avoids the line for the train with lots of wealthy looking businessmen, feeling out of place in his faded shorts and even more faded t-shirt, which is rapidly developing tiny holes around the hem because he wears it so often. Jin has nothing but four shirts tucked into his backpack, and he washes them with laundry detergent in the sinks of hostels if he doesn't find a place to wash them before he runs out. At the co-op, it had been lye soap instead of detergent, so he thinks it might be an upgrade. It wears on them, and he looks scruffy in a way he's never looked before, even when he was in his early twenties and embracing the whole American grunge look that made him look like a rich kid playing homeless.

 

The train is expensive, but Jin is not poor, and his Visa card works worldwide.

 

The train ride is fun, mostly because Jin spends it people watching. There are two lovers in the seats across the aisle, and their cute antics bring a grin to Jin's face even as he feels a twinge of jealousy.

 

Jin has never been in love. It's one of the biggest regrets he has about his life as a Johnny, that he's never been able to live his personal life purely for himself.

 

He remembers when Pi fell in love once, with a girl who wasn't famous, a girl he had met at some nightclub she had been dragged to by her friends, and he had been infatuated with for months before she finally agreed to date him.  He remembers the starry-eyed waxing poetic that Yamapi had done drunkenly on the balcony of their shared apartment; and the sobbing, that they never talk about, that resulted when she decided she couldn't really keep up with Pi's lifestyle. Even as Pi lay next to Jin on Jin's bed, staring at the ceiling with his hand clawing into his chest, talking about how much his heart hurt, Jin had felt jealous, because he didn’t, and still doesn't, know that kind of desperate longing. He doesn't know what drives Paris to risk everything for Helen of Troy, and he doesn't understand why Romeo drinks poison to follow Juliet into death.

 

The closet thing he can think of to that feeling is seeing a scarf inside of a shop in Delhi and knowing how pretty it would look on his mother, or missing the sound of Pi rumbling around in the kitchen in the mornings for olive oil when he gets back from his run, long before Jin is ready to rise and greet the day. Sometimes the longing for his apartment with Pi, for Pi's simple cooking and Pi's soft touch on his shoulder, reassuring and warm, eats him up inside, but Jin chokes it back down because he can't worry about it now, because he hasn't 'found himself' yet, and he can't go back until he knows what has been missing.

 

The couple, with their dark faces and their white, secretive smiles, make Jin want to know all about love, and he watches them subtlety, admiring the color in her cheeks and the nervousness in his hands.

 

The woman in the seat next to Jin looks about his age, and she's pretty in a mousy way. She strikes up a conversation with Jin about twenty minutes into the trip, and Jin learns that her name is Amy, and she's a graduate student studying Hindu scripture.

 

Currently, she's studying about a particular man from the fifteenth century named Guru Nanak, who blended elements of Hindu and Islam together. Her hands fly around her face excitedly, and she starts to talk faster and faster and Jin's English isn't good enough to keep up. He catches one in three words, to be honest, but he can't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

 

What he does gather is that she knows a lot, and she cares about what she studies, and that's really what he's interested in, anyway. Jin likes people with passions, and that's why he's always had a soft spot for Kamenashi, even when he became high maintenance and pretentious as they got older, and why he's never punched Ueda in the face, despite all the times the smartass deserves it. They both have intense passions, Kame for baseball, and Ueda for boxing. Pi is intensely passionate about food, in the way that as much as he'll eat anything, he's incredibly picky when recommending restaurants and he always spends hours at the grocery store pouring over ingredients and additives, and touching all the vegetables feeling for imperfections before he buys them. Josh, too, has a passion, but it's for trolling, which isn't very admirable, but Jin admires the way he manages it nonetheless.

 

Amy, with a wry grin, realizes Jin is a little lost. "You don't really care, right?" she asks, and chuckles. "Sorry, I always get so carried away."

 

Jin shakes his head rapidly in the negative. "It's not that," Jin says insistently. "I just...my English isn't really good enough to keep up when you start talking so fast."

 

Amy looks mortified, and Jin's always embarrassed when he is forced to admit the limits of his English, because he works so hard at it. It's one of the few things he really just started just for himself, because he wanted to, and bullied his way into getting it. "I'm so sorry," Amy says, much slower. "If it's any consolation, I noticed you had a slight accent, but I didn't really consider that you weren't a comfortable speaker."

 

Jin smiles at her softly, and Amy flushes in a way that makes Jin remember how all the girls had liked him in middle school, even though he'd been a complete dork, because there was something a little exotic about his face.

 

"So where are you from, then?" Amy asks, suddenly turning the conversation around on Jin. "Like what do you do?"

 

"I'm from Japan," Jin answers. "And I don't really do anything now," he says slowly. "I sort of walked out on my job and flew to India."

 

Amy gapes at him, before she bursts out laughing. "Oh my gosh, that's totally nuts. What did your family say?"

 

"I don't know," Jin replies. "I called my mom, told her I was leaving and not to worry, and then I threw my cell in the trash."

 

"She's probably worried sick," Amy replies, tugging on her reddish orange ponytail. "Not to mention your friends."

 

Jin thinks about how Pi always sits on the couch with only the kitchen light on and waits when Jin comes home late without calling. He wonders if Pi is sitting on the couch right now, arms crossed and brow furrowed, waiting for Jin to come home, a lecture about making him worried sitting on the edge of his lips.

 

It makes him feel guilty, in a way he hasn't felt since he got to India a month ago. It makes him long to turn the key in the lock and open the door to his apartment, and softly say "I'm home," and to have Pi lift out his long arms into the air, fingers linked with each other above his head, stretch, and glare indolently at him.

 

"I know," Jin says, and Amy clears her throat.

 

 "So...what did you do?"

 

"I was a major Japanese pop star," Jin says cheekily, and Amy swats him.

 

"Fine," she snarks. "If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to."

 

Jin supposes he doesn't look much like a pop star, anymore. Not with his overgrown hair, slight wispy beard and terrible sunburn, wearing old faded clothes and riding on a midrange priced train in coach class. Still, the fact that al he'd ever needed to be incognito was to stop using conditioner in his hair makes him laugh. He wants to message Yuu and tell him the secret, but he doesn't have a phone anymore, and even if he did, international texts are expensive, and Jin is probably unemployed.

 

Jin and Amy converse for the rest of the trip, Amy telling him again about her research, at a slower pace with fewer esoteric academic words that Jin can't comprehend.

 

It turns out Jin is pretty interested. He's been meaning to explore temples anyway. Jin figures if you're not having a mental breakdown, not even remotely, and you really are just trying to 'find yourself' then you probably do a few spiritual things, and temples seem like a good start. Plus, history is awesome to Jin. He's never been really inclined toward studying much that wasn't English and porn, but maybe if he'd had more teachers like Amy when he was a kid it all could have turned out differently. Maybe Jin would be in a stuffy library somewhere, underlining rare facts about plants or something now, instead of aimlessly roaming around India wondering if he's running away or running towards something.

 

When they arrive in Mumbai, they grab a quick lunch at the station, and eat standing next to a small group of dancing children, who are singing in a language Jin can't decipher, but he is pretty sure its a different language than the one the kids had been speaking in Delhi. Jin has a good ear, because he's a singer, and he'd read in the guidebook that he'd bought upon debarking the plane that they spoke like a million different languages in India anyway. After they eat, Amy offers to meet up with Jin again, before he goes home, in Amritsar, at the Golden Temple. "You'll maybe be ready to head up north again, by then," Amy says. "And I'll be living up there, near the temple. So I want to show it to you."

 

She gives him her email address, and tells him that there are little marts where he can go to access a computer and 'send a quick letter to his mother' while he's at it.

 

After she leaves, climbing knowledgeably into a taxi, and Jin is left standing aimlessly by the side of the road, Jin is filled with this sudden inescapable urge to hear Japanese.

 

He walks back inside the station and finds a pay phone. He swipes his credit card and his fingers shakily dial a number.

 

"Hello?" asks a rather belligerent male voice, and Jin almost can't make the words come out.

 

"Hey, Reio. It's me, Jin."

 

"Holy shit," Reio says, and then he's hollering into the hallway. "Mom, it's Jin!!" he screams, and there's a rustling. "Jin, you crazy motherfucker," Reio breathes into the phone. "I totally hate you. Don't you know how worried we all are about you?!" Reio sounds like he's preparing for a full on rant. "You can't just up and go somewhere where no one can find you, you stupid shit. Yamashita is basically off the deep end now-"

 

Suddenly, Reio is cut off, and Jin's mom is talking softly into the phone. "Jin, is it really you?" she asks, and she sounds almost like she doesn't believe he's okay. The guilt sits heavy on his shoulders now, and he thinks he might cry.

 

"Yeah, mom, it's me," Jin responds, and then she makes a choked sob into the phone and Jin wants to give her a hug from across the ocean but he can't do that. "I'm okay."

 

"I'm so glad," she whispers, and Jin thinks it's amazing to hear her voice, because it feels like he hasn't heard it in years. He knows it's only been a month, but it seems like ages have passed.

 

"I can't talk long," Jin says apologetically, and his mom sighs.

 

"Then just tell me where you are. Tell me when you're coming home."

 

"I don't know," Jin says. "I don't know anything yet."

 

"Okay," his mom says, and then she seems to gather herself. "Call again, okay? Don't make me wonder if you're dead, or in trouble, or kidnapped...God, I've been so worried."

 

Jin swallows. "I'm so sorry. I don't know why..."

 

"Oh Jin, you'll figure it out," his mom says. "You always do."

 

When Jin hangs up, he keeps the phone up to his ear for a few moments, listening to the dial tone and wondering if he should make another call. But then he just hangs the phone on the receiver, jams his hands into his pockets, and walks out onto the street. He looks at a map in his guidebook, and sets off toward something that looks interesting.

 

He wonders, for just a moment, if Yamapi is sitting on the sofa right now, waiting for a Jin who isn't going to come home.

 

Mumbai is not the most populated city for nothing, Jin thinks, as he's pushed and shoved through the streets. It's two in the afternoon now, and the sun is boiling hot, making Jin sweat so hard he shivers. It's also humid, and Jin's hair sticks to the back of his neck as he's jostled again.

 

He's approaching a bazaar. The large, Western style buildings sort of throw him, because they look like England in a way he doesn't expect, and seeing the traditional Indian lehengas weave in and out of the doors of these statuesque monuments to colonialism is strange and intriguing.

 

When Jin reaches the bazaar, he's overwhelmed with bright color and exotic scents. It seems like there's a play going on, the actors walking down the street dressed in flashy clothes and speaking in loud tones. Jin can't understand them, they're speaking in the same language as the singing children in the station, and Jin is fascinated by the mellifluous sound. It sounds a bit like singing, maybe just because he can't understand it, but it's wonderful.

 

Then Jin realizes that the actors are carrying wares, selling them to people on the street. One approaches him, carry children's dolls and shoving them under Jin's nose, gesturing excitedly and holding up three fingers like it's a price. Jin digs the indicated amount out of his pocket and hands it to the man, and the man puts the doll into Jin's hand in exchange.

 

"What just happened?" Jin asks himself, and a man looks at him with a wily grin.

 

"They aren't actors," the man says in clear English, even though Jin had spoken in Japanese. They're vendors."

 

"Really?" Jin asks, intrigued. "That's so cool."

 

"This is Shaik Menon street," the man continues. "All the vendors are carrying large blue bags." He points one out to Jin and Jin nods to show his understanding.

 

As he continues walking, acquiring two strange fruits he's never seen before and a bracelet that he wants to send to his little Lina, he notices that actually, the vendors seem to blend into the crowd, moving through them as just normal faces. Jin doesn't know why he thought they stood out so much before.

 

He thinks it's because he knows so well what it looks like when someone is pretending.

 

He finds a cheap hostel to spend the night at, and crawls into bed. He feels tired enough to fall immediately to sleep, but he can't help but think about his short conversation with Reio.

 

He wants to know how deep the deep end is, and whether it's his fault that Yamapi is there. Yamapi has always been a poor swimmer.

 

There's a lot to do in Mumbai. Jin especially enjoys the street musicians, because he's never heard a lot of these instruments before, and he sort of wants to learn how to play some of them, but he's still got a ways to go on the guitar, and maybe it would be silly.

 

But still, he thinks about it.

 

Jin meets a man named Rohit two days after he arrives in Mumbai, outside of a small restaurant that Jin is contemplating patronizing for lunch. He's developed a love of goat curry that makes him long to try every possible variation of it, but he still can't figure out how to order unless there's English spoken. He's been lucky that most people speak English where he has gone, but the accents are tough, and Jin is far from a native speaker himself.

 

"Do you need some help?" asks a tentative voice, and Jin spins around in surprise. "Do you speak English?" the man continues.

 

"Yes," Jin replies, shifting his backpack nervously on his back. "Somewhat"

 

The man smiles at him gently, and offers to buy Jin lunch.

 

"Why?" Jin queries, and the man shrugs.

 

"I love meeting people from strange places. You're clearly not American, and you looked like you could use a hand. This particular restaurant is one you can haggle over prices at. Do you wanna see?"

 

"I'm Jin," Jin says with a smile, wondering if he should stick out a hand or what. He hasn't managed to overcome the culture shock, and sometimes he wants to bow to people out of sheer instinct.

 

Rohit scratches the back of his neck, and nods. "And I'm Rohit," he's replies.

 

Lunch passes quickly, to Jin's surprise, and Rohit is full of questions about why Jin is in India, and about life in Japan. Jin isn't full of answers, but Rohit somehow seems to understand, and Jin has enough to say that the conversation never dies.

 

Rohit reminds Jin immediately of Yamapi, in the way he smiles without showing his teeth and the way he calmly raises and eyebrow whenever Jin takes too long to understand what he's trying to say.

 

The thought makes him ask Rohit where he can buy a notebook. Rohit guides him to a tourist shop down a winding side street, where the smell of animals is even stronger than on the main road, and Jin wanders around until his eyes alight on a small, fabric bound book, with no lines inside. The cover is made of gold and magenta cloth that reminds Jin of the colorful sari he sees everyday as he explores, and the yellowed pages feel soft and cottony under his fingertips. He pays for it swiftly, dropping a handful of coins into the weathered hand of the elderly man sitting to the right of the stand. His face is lined deeply, and the lines shift lightly as his hands close around the money in what Jin assumes is a smile. Jin slips the book into his pocket.

 

Later that night, after Rohit has scrawled his contact information onto a napkin at the bar they retire to after a day of wandering past street vendors and looking at famous movie theaters, ones that opened during the early days of the Bollywood film rush, Jin pulls the little book out of the pocket of his shorts and stares at it. The silky fabric of the cover feels inexplicably comforting. He digs a ballpoint out of his backpack: one he accidentally stole from the flight attendant after borrowing it to fill out his immigration forms, and opens the book to the first page.

 

Dear Pi, he writes, and then sticks the back of the pen into his mouth, chewing on the end in that way that always used to make Kame smack the back of his arm when they were kids and lecture him about tooth care and oral hygiene.

 

You're probably furious at me, he scrawls, then makes an effort to make neater letters. I would be, if I were you, and my best friend just up and ran away.

 

Jin wonders if it's crazy, that he misses Pi so much that he's bought a journal just so he can remember all the things he wants to tell him.

 

I'm in India now. I don't know why I'm here, exactly, except I've always wanted to see it. I've got really bad sunburn now, because you know how I always forget how sensitive I am to the sun, and I've never owned sunscreen in my life, I always just bummed yours.

 

Jin looks down at the red skin of his upper arms. It's fading to a warm brown now, at least, as he gets used to the burning sun, and being outside all day.

 

I wonder, sometimes, about how everyone is doing. It doesn't feel like it's been a month, but I guess it has. I don't really know what happened, Pi, but I had to leave. I wish I could have told you, but I didn't really know I was going to do it until I was at the airport.

 

Jin taps the ballpoint against his lips. It catches on the rough skin there, and Jin rummages around the front pocket of his bag for the lip balm he bought at the airport when he landed.

 

I met a man named Rohit today. He reminded me of you. You would have loved the places he showed me-- we saw a theater today that was built around the time of the dawn of Indian cinema. Remember that time we dragged Ryo to that Bollywood film, and he complained the whole time about how 'reading subtitles is for nerds' and how his life was 'enough of a musical that he didn't need to watch a movie about it?' Ryo would hate it here. There's no air conditioning and all the girls old enough for him to hit on are married or out of his league.

 

Jin laughs when he thinks about his small friend, and then carefully quiets himself when he remembers he's not alone. He's staying at a hostel for travelers, and he shares lodging with about four other people right now, all sleeping. The guy on the end from London, with who Jin had had a nice conversation with about the city, looks particularly restless, and Jin guiltily stifles his amusement.

 

Mumbai is really gorgeous, despite the class divides and all the poverty in the streets. The air smells like spices, you know? I want to take you here some day. You'd love the clothes, too. Maybe you could find some inspiration for your NewS costumes out here, right?

 

Jin closes the book, and he drifts off to sleep, remembers, for some strange reason, the look on Yamapi's face the first time Jin took him out to an Indian restaurant. Yamapi had melted in pleasure at his first bite of tandoori chicken, and Jin laughed as Yamapi licked his lips and beamed at Jin, and Jin gloated that he knew Yamapi would love it.

 

When Jin wakes up the next morning, for some reason he can't get Pi's face out of his mind as he licks his lips of red sauce. He grabs his little book.

 

Pi, do you remember the time we went to Indian food for the first time? I am thinking about it lately, probably because I'm in India.

 

Jin pauses. I'm thinking of learning how to play the sitar. Why aren't you here to tell me it's an awesome idea?

 

He closes the book again, sliding it in the pocket of his shorts.

 

Jin washes his face and quickly brushes his teeth, pulling his hair back into a quick ponytail to get it out of his face, and cursively shaving his face.

 

The manager of the hostel smiles at Jin when he walks out of the sleeping area, offering him a fruit and Jin smiles back. "Can I use your phone?" Jin asks him, and the man reaches under the counter and pulls out a large black phone, and Jin scrounges around his pocket for the napkin with Rohit's number on it.

 

The phone rings twice, and then Jin hears a hesitant voice answer the line. "Hello?"

 

"Rohit? It's Jin."

 

"Jin!" the voice says, warming immediately. "You found a phone."

 

"The one at my hostel," Jin says. "Do you have time today? I was thinking of taking a walking tour of the Gateway today."

 

"Yeah, sure!" Rohit says enthusiastically in response. "Where are you staying?"

 

Jin gives him the name of the hostel, and Rohit looks it up online, and tells Jin he knows how to get there. "I know the bus to take," Rohit says, and Jin grins excitedly. "Great," he replies.

 

Rohit shows up an hour later, and he leads Jin through the streets like an expert.

 

"Were you born here?" Jin asks Rohit, and Rohit grins. "Naw, I'm American," Rohit says. "But my parents were born here. My dad is a professional musician. He's a classical sitar player."

 

"Really?" Jin says with interest. "I've been thinking of taking lessons. I play the guitar already."

 

"I could teach you," Rohit says, and smiles. "I've been playing since I was very young."

 

"That would be seriously awesome," Jin says, grinning back. "What do you do, by the way?"

 

"I'm a translator," Rohit admits. "Mayalam and Hindi."

 

"That is so cool," Jin says, and Rohit kind of blushes.

 

It's hot on the bus, and Jin can feel himself starting to sweat, even though it's only ten in the morning and the day is bound to get hotter. Rohit seems unaffected by the weather, and Jin calls him on it.

 

"Ahh, that's where you show your foreigner blood," Rohit tells him with a chuckle.

 

"Really?" Jin replies sarcastically. "And here I thought it was the sunburn."

 

They both laugh, and Jin turns to watch the scenery out the window. "So what can you tell me about the Gateway of India?"

 

Rohit leans back in his seat. "It's a symbol of Mumbai. Of our country, really. Maybe like Mt Fuji?"

 

Jin grins at the comparison. "Maybe that's the Taj Mahal," Jin says.

 

"Well," Rohit says, "it has a lot of historical significance, in terms of colonialism."

 

"The way the West and the East combine here is really fascinating to me," Jin says. "How does that happen?"

 

"We used to belong to Britain," Rohit explains, and Jin nods. "Actually, the Gateway is the exact spot where King George V first arrived here in Bombay-- I mean, Mumbai, back in 1911, and the people here gathered money to build it as memorial to him."

 

"Wouldn't that be kind of...not a good memory? Why is that something to celebrate."

 

"Not all important memories are happy ones," Rohit gently says, and then he smiles wolfishly. "Besides, it was also the spot from which the very last of the British soldiers left our soil when we became free."

 

Jin's eyes crinkle in amusement, and they pass the rest of the ride in tales from history, about how Indian culture changed a lot from British influence. Jin can say similar things about American influence in Japan after World War II, so it's interesting to compare, even if Jin isn't nearly as knowledgeable as Rohit is about his own history.

 

When they reach the Gateway, Jin is overwhelmed by it's magnitude. "Wow."

 

"Mahatma Gandhi wouldn't choose just any place to return to India," Rohit says with amusement.

 

"So the Gateway was built in 1911, right?" Jin asks, as he looks up at it. "How was it constructed?"

 

Rohit looks at Jin with one eyebrow raised. "This arch isn't the Gateway of India, Jin. It's just a memorial built here at the Gateway." Rohit gestures out at the wide sea beyond the arch. "This bay; this is the Gateway of India."

 

Jin nods in understanding, eyes looking out into the distance, to where the water meets the horizon. The sun is high in the sky now, beaming down on him, but Jin can also feel the breeze of the sea blowing salty and cool, despite the sweltering summer heat. It cuts through the mugginess, and Jin feels alive.

 

"Mother Nature is always our greatest architect," Rohit says, and Jin can't help but agree.

 

They eat lunch at the Sea Lounge, which is packed with tourists but offers an amazing view. Rohit warns off some vendors dangerously when they emerge, and Jin looks at him curiously. "They're selling drugs," Rohit says. "It makes me angry. There are children here."

 

He looks like Pi in that moment, all indignant like that and Jin's opinion that Rohit really resembles Yamapi is reinforced.

 

"I didn't really make any plans after this," Jin says, and Rohit brightens. "Well then, if you'll allow me to choose our next destination today?"

 

"Lead on," Jin says, and they get on another bus.

 

"Babu Amichand Adishwarji Jain Temple," Rohit proclaims with a flourish.

 

Jin stumbles over the unfamiliar syllables as he tries to repeat it back, and Rohit laughs. "Jain is a religion, sort of. A faith, we'll say. Adishwarji, or Lord Adishwar, was the first of the twenty-four 'omniscients' of our era. Hence the name."

 

Jin turns the word omniscient over in his head a few times. "So he was some sort of spiritual leader?"

 

"Absolutely," Rohit agrees. "And thousands of followers come to this temple every day to pray for guidance."

 

"It's beautiful," Jin says, and it is. There is gold leaf everywhere, and rich, sensuous colors weave up and down the walls. The people here are beautiful too, in modest but elaborate traditional clothing, made of cottons instead of silks, heads bent to the floor in devoted kneeling. "Can we go inside?" Jin asks, and Rohit nods.

 

"Yes," he says, and then smiles cheekily, just like Yamapi does when he's convinced Jin to do the laundry on Yamapi's week for the third time in a row with just a puppy face. "But not if you're menstruating, sorry Jin."

 

Jin swats at him, and laughs quietly, so as not to disturb the worshippers. He slips off his shoes, a familiar habit, and his feet feel strangely cold on the smooth floor.

 

Jin is not religious by nature. He doesn't put a lot of stock in it, and it's not something he was raised to know a lot about. He doesn't have a problem with it, and it doesn't make him upset, but he's pretty ignorant about it. But right now, inside of this majestic temple, surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of devotees, all bowed in submission, Jin feels the urge to pray.

 

By the time they get back to where Jin is staying, Jin is asleep on his feet.

 

"I had fun today, Rohit. Thank you."

 

"It was my pleasure," he tells Jin. "I'm free next Wednesday, if you'd like to--"

 

"Yes!" Jin says quickly, then blushes. Rohit smiles hugely, looking pleased. Jin just likes how spending time with Rohit sometimes feels like being with Yamapi. It's easy, and there are no eggshells, and Jin's usually awkward with strangers but when he sees Pi's image superimposed over Rohit, it's impossible to be awkward, he can only be himself.

 

He writes in his book, to his other imaginary Pi, about the day’s adventures, about the smells and the sounds and the strange sights. He closes the book when he's finished, and then lies down in his bed at the hostel wanting to go immediately to sleep, but then he remembers something he wants to add.

 

I heard something really good today, Pi. Rohit told me that 'Not all important memories are good ones.' Do you think that's true? I think back on my important memories, and I wonder.

 

Jin ventures on his own to a spice market. He almost dies at all the amazing smells, that remind him of all sorts of things.

 

He stops at one booth, and smells the cloves that hang from the vendor’s wooden stall in a small net.

 

Pi would love this.

 

Pi spends hours smelling different incenses whenever Jin drags him to the game store to pick up some new fighting or racing game, despite the fact that they always end up just playing Mario Kart anyway, because Yamapi doesn't want to bother to learn the controls of any other games. Across the way from the game store is a curiosity shop, that Yamapi loves because it's filled with candles and potpourris and other things that he can lean over and indulge in the luxurious scents of. Yamapi loves scents almost as much as he loves food, and he's equally picky about them. But this place. He would love this place.

 

When Jin figures everything out, what he wants, what he's been looking for, after all that, then he'll bring Yamapi here, to India.

 

He'll share this with his best friend someday, he's sure of it.

 

Rohit's next plans for them, the following Wednesday, turn out to be a tour of all the traditional music houses on the eastern side of Mumbai.

 

"You said you were interested in learning how to play," Rohit explains. "But if you want to play the sitar, you have to learn to listen to it first."

 

It's enthralling, listening to old men whose fingers move with precision across the string, producing sounds that Jin has never really heard before. The metal picks in their hands seem to move like an extension of those nimble fingers across the large instrument.

 

At the end of the day, Jin looks at Rohit with a sense of wonder. "Today was perfect," Jin says. "Thank you."

 

"As always," Rohit replies, "It was my pleasure."

 

When Jin falls to sleep that night, he dreams of melodies.

 

Before Jin realizes it, it is fall. The hot air cools, and walking outside in the height of the afternoon no longer weighs like a heavy task on Jin's foreigner shoulders.

 

The more time Jin spends wrapped up with Rohit, wrapped up in listening to sitar music and learning it's long and beautiful history, the more Jin misses making music. Jin finds himself singing in the shower, singing in the streets, singing in the sparsely decorated living room of Rohit's apartment when Rohit is cooking in the kitchen.

 

Jin has doubted a lot in his life, but Jin has never doubted singing. He loves to sing. Singing is something Jin does effortlessly, and something that uncomplicatedly brings him joy. When Jin sings, he can forget the world, forget everything but the feeling of the music drumming through his veins. While Jin regrets the way he signed his life away to Johnny for the chance to sing for a living sometimes, even then he doesn't regret the music. And Johnny gave him a lot too. Sometimes Jin thinks Johnny's has given him just as much as it has taken away. Johnny's gave him Kame, and music, and Maru, and fame. Johnny's gave him Pi.

 

When Rohit tells Jin, one day, in the back room of the sitar workshop that used to belong to Rohit's father, that Jin has an exceptional ear for music, Jin tells Rohit that he's a musician.

 

Rohit grins at him, and asks him if he's ready to learn to play.

 

In the back of the room, in a worn black case, is an old sitar. Jin holds it reverently when Rohit places it carefully in his hands. He sits cross-legged, resting the sitar against his foot and then letting the neck lie against his chest, as he had observed the other players doing over the course of the past two months.

 

Rohit takes Jin's hand in his own, and moves it to the correct place on the instrument, and speaks gently, like a grade school teacher. "It's not a guitar, Jin," Rohit chides him. "So don't treat it like one. Pull the string out, not down."

 

Jin nods, and sticks his tongue out in concentration. "Got it, thanks," he says, and tries again. This time, when he plucks the string, the note is clear, and it whistles through the air like a bell.

 

"Good," says Rohit, and he moves to kneel even closer to Jin, and grabs Jin's hand to move it to the next note. "Now this one."

 

Jin feels weird, because it feels like he's standing next to Pi in his kitchen. They're the same build, Rohit and Pi.

 

Jin remembers the first time Jin tried to cook in their new apartment. He remembers Pi laughing at him, and standing close to him, just like Rohit is doing now, and showing him how to cut the vegetables straight, his hands shaping Jin's around the knife and cutting with him. Jin feels like he's caught between two times, and he can't figure out who is touching him.

 

"Now you're getting it," Rohit says, and Jin is drawn back to the here and now. He shivers a bit, and Rohit is staring at Jin. Jin suddenly feels tension, like the air is suddenly thicker, and he's nervous, not sure what's caused the change.

 

Rohit takes the sitar from Jin's loose grip, and carefully sets it down into it's case, zipping it with an air of finality. He squares his shoulders then, and turns around to look at Jin, who can feel his palms inexplicably starting to sweat.

 

Rohit leans forward, toward Jin. His cheekbones are sharp. He looks like Pi. "Jin, I really like you." Rohit clears his throat. "I mean, like you. Like that."

 

Jin doesn't say anything, because he doesn't know what to say, doesn't know what to think. Jin doesn't like men, but there's something about Rohit that attracts him, draws him in. Rohit feels familiar in a way that hurts, right now, because it's not familiar enough.

 

Rohit takes his silence as an invitation, and steps into Jin's personal space. He tilts his face downward, and presses his lips to Jin's, softly. Rohit's lips are dry, and Jin, detachedly, thinks they feel like he is licking an envelope to seal it for the post.

 

At Jin's non-reaction, Rohit pulls back and frowns. "Why won't you kiss me?"

 

"I'm sorry," Jin says, and Rohit furrows his brows, like Pi does when he's confused, and leans forward and kisses Jin again. This time, Jin kisses back, just to see. He opens under Rohit's steady assault, not sure what he's supposed to feel, if he should be feeling something. He wants to feel something, he thinks, because normal people feel things, and he used to feel things too. Somehow, even as he's being kissed, he's thinking of Yamapi, and that maybe the only reason he's letting this happen is because Rohit reminds him of his best friend, who Jin would never hurt, and so Jin doesn't want to hurt Rohit either.

 

It's that thought that makes Jin push Rohit away, pressing at his shoulders until Rohit is standing apart from him, looking at Jin like he doesn't understand. "I don't get it," Rohit says. "You were treating me like...I don't know, you gave me all these signals."

 

Jin sighs, and cradles his face in his hands, massaging his eyelids with his fingertips. "You remind me of someone," Jin says.

 

"What?" Rohit asks, and he sounds incredulous.

 

"You remind me of my best friend," Jin whispers. "So I just sort of treated you like I treat him." Jin runs a hand through his long hair exasperatedly, figuring out how to explain. "I'm not into men, and I am sorry if you thought..."

 

Rohit presses his lips into a thin line. "I remind you of your best friend?"

 

"Yeah," Jin says helplessly, and then he shrugs. "A lot, actually."

 

"But not enough," Rohit states, instead of asking, and then he jams his hands into his pockets. "I'm going to go," Rohit says, and then he's leaving, and Jin doesn't know what he can say to make this better.

 

"Is this...it?" Jin questions, and Rohit doesn't turn around.

 

"Yeah," he answers, and then Rohit exhales, loud in the quiet night. "Enjoy the rest of your time in Mumbai." And then he is gone, and Jin is left alone with his tumultuous emotions, and his confused heart.

 

Sometimes Jin wonders if he'll ever be able to love.

 

Pi, I think there might be something wrong with me. Like other people know what they want, and I have no idea about anything. I don't even know who I am, anymore. I think I'm more fucked up than I thought. I wish you were here to explain it all to me, because you always get it.

 

As Jin tries to fall asleep, he imagines Pi lying next to him, silently supporting him, arm slung around Jin's waist while Jin inhales his scent. Jin sleeps to the smell of Indian spices in the air, but in his heart is, for just a few minutes, in Tokyo.

 

The next morning, Jin packs his backpack up, and walks to the train station. It takes about 45 minutes, but somehow he finds is, occasionally asking for directions. About a block from the station, he spies a post office. Without thinking, he walks in and asks for a small package envelope. He stuffs the bracelet he bought the first day, and after a moment's thought, the doll too, into the envelope, and seals it. He scrawls Lina's name on the package, and because he knows it from memory, Yuu's address. He smiles at the clerk as he hands him the postage fee, and then Jin feels a little lighter.

 

"Goodbye, Mumbai," Jin whispers into the air. Then he he reaches his arms above his head, fingers interlocked, just like Yamapi, and stretches his back. "Goodbye Rohit."

 

And then Jin buys a ticket to Pondicherry.

 

Today, I'm leaving Mumbai. Sitar lessons didn't really work out for me. Would have been better if you were here, probably, because then you could have helped me figure out what I was missing.

  Pondicherry